A Christmas Story
by Sexy Meat Pies
Summary: The Patriots are slowly being taken down, but our heroes aren't safe yet. Charlie and Connor stay in Texas while Miles and Monroe help the cause. They find themselves stuck in hiding as Christmas grows closer and closer. Charlie isn't sure what her relationship with Connor is, but it's definitely not what she expected it to be.


Charlie Matheson lowered her crossbow as the deer ran off. She cursed under her breath and checked the trap she'd left yesterday. She sighed in relief as she found two squirrels. Untying them and putting them into her bag, she turned back toward home. Or what substituted as a home anyway. She kept her crossbow out and loaded should any of the straggler Patriots come by. Like the one that killed her mother. How could they have been so stupid? They'd taken out one Patriot camp. One. And suddenly they'd let their guards down. Miles said himself he didn't care if he found Truman or not. Truman was probably in charge of the Patriots now. They're little more than a well-equipped war clan now, but they're still a threat. Which is why Charlie was heading to a house in the woods instead of the Willoughby town square.

She got onto the porch of the not-too-big house and washed the squirrel blood off her hands in the water basin. She unloaded her crossbow and strung it onto her back next to the bag. Charlie stepped into the house she shared with Connor and took a step back.

"What the hell…?" she said out loud, eyeing the colorful streamers that hung from the ceiling. "Connor?" No answer. "Con- dammit," she swore, tearing down the streamer that had hit her face. She mumbled to herself, "where is he?" They had been hiding out in this farmhouse for over two months while Miles and Monroe went on "diplomatic" missions to the Plains Nation. Connor and Charlie's relationship had been… evolving, to say the least.

Charlie walked into the living room and stopped short.

"What… the hell?" she asked, finding a smirking Connor standing next to a large star-shaped piñata. "What is this? All of this?"

"Well, this is the star that led the shepherds to the stable," he said, pointing to the piñata. "And those are tamales and Christmas Eve salad. Christmas tree, homemade ornaments-"

"No, I mean, why?"

"Because… Christmas?

"But it's December 16th."

"Christmas season starts on December 16th," he replied, "in Mexico. And it lasts until January 6th, so strap in."

"Yeah, well, we're not in Mexico, so… take it all down." she turned to stalk out of the room.

"Charlie," Connor called, his smirk falling, "Charlie, w-wait. What's going on?" He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. "What's up? What? Was there no Christmas in my dad's republic?"

What? Of course there was."

"Well, it's not that different. Look, there's a tree and we give presents. I mean, there are different things-"

"It's not Mexican Christmas I have a problem with," she snapped, "It's all of it, the whole damn season."

"Ok, Grinch," he muttered.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing. Never mind. Why do you hate Christmas?"

"I don't," she muttered, "I'm going hunting. I'll be back later."

"Charlie, you just went-" she kept walking, "Stop, Charlie, c'mon. Stop and talk to me. What is this about?"

"Christmas was my brother's favorite, ok?" she finally spit out, trying to keep her voice level, "He loved it. Since he was a kid. I haven't had to think about it since he…" she sighed. "And I can't think about Danny on Christmas and... It's just not my thing, ok?"

"Oh," he said softly, recalling what little he knew about her brother. Until this point, he hadn't even known his name. "But you can't avoid or get rid of everything he liked."

"Connor-"

"Just come inside, ok? It's freezing. And I made food... C'mon, I'll show you how to make tamales." He waited a few long seconds.

"Tamales?" she asked, giving in and closing the door. "Not pie or something?" Connor laughed.

"Ok, now we're gonna talk about something called culture."

* * *

><p>"So, being honest," Connor asked, his hands in his pockets, "How were the tamales?"<p>

"They were great, Connor," Charlie muttered.

"Yeah, sounds like it," he pouted.

"What do you want from me, Connor?" she asked, "Did you really expect me to see all the pretty Christmas things and suddenly be a cheerier person?"

"No, I just-"

"I can't just change into a happy go lucky person, Connor."

"I know," he said, "And I'm not trying to change you. I just want you to be happy." She was silent for a good few seconds.

"Why do you care?"

"I don't know. Why _don't_ you?" he questioned. She just stared back at him. "It might surprise you, Charlie, but I do care about you... It's not just sex to me."

"What do you want me to say?" she asked.

"You don't have to say anything," he replied. He went to go sit on the couch and looked back, "You coming?" She sighed and finally walked over to join him. She sat close to him, but not touching. He reached over to hold her hand and she almost jerked away but then relaxed, just letting him.

* * *

><p>"How old was your brother, Charlie?" he asked as it grew darker outside. She was startled but then decided talking about him might be better than keeping everything in.<p>

"He was seventeen," she said softly. "Almost eighteen. Do you know how he died?"

"Chopper attack right? Back when my dad had power."

"Yeah. Who told you?"

"My dad." he said carefully. She wondered why Monroe would tell his son that he'd killed her brother. Maybe he was trying to convince him that she was a basket case with too much baggage. Maybe he felt guilty. Who knew?

"Oh. Well, yeah. He was fighting. I told him to stay inside and he didn't listen..." her voice wavered, "I should've made him, I should've..."

"What could you have done, Charlie? Tied him up? It's not your fault. None of what happened is any of your fault."

"You weren't there," she snapped suddenly defensive. "You didn't know my brother or my dad or Nora or..."

"I know," he said quickly, "But I'm here now and I know you. And I know you would've done anything for your brother. I was there, Charlie, when your mom died." She let out a soft gasp. He was there. He was the person she'd ran too. At the time, she just needed someone to tell her it was going to be ok, even if she didn't believe them. Now, however, she wondered why she didn't run to Miles. Why was Connor the first person she'd thought to run to? Why did she practically volunteer to stay behind after he said he was going to? Why was she still sleeping with him?

"How is it someone so conceited can be so caring?"

"Conceited?" he repeated. "Ouch."

"You know how you were," she said softly.

"Maybe... I've changed?" he suggested.

"Maybe."

"Well, that's a start," he chuckled. "Hey, Charlie?"

"What?"

"You're a good person. And I'm lucky to have you... not hate me."


End file.
